


ROOTS (CONT’D)

by they_hear_the_music



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Jealousy, M/M, Post Episode 168, canon typical bickering, this is super self indulgent sue me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:01:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24326959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/they_hear_the_music/pseuds/they_hear_the_music
Summary: “You know where he is though, right?” Martin asks suddenly, after a long while of silent walking.“Oliver?” Jon asks and Martin’s expression darkens, as if even the name coming from Jon’s lips is unacceptable.“Yes, Oliver,” Martin says the name like it’s poison. “You could find him, right?”“I could,” Jon allows, unsure where this is going. “Martin, what-”“I want to meet him,” Martin interrupts. “Take me to him!”
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 65
Kudos: 1117





	ROOTS (CONT’D)

**Author's Note:**

> I can’t believe that out of all of my tma wips, this is the one I finish in like 2 days… Enjoy while it’s still canon compliant :D  
> Loosely inspired by [this amazing post](https://radiosandrecordings.tumblr.com/post/618760733005611008/i-think-for-comedic-value-oliver-should-just-have)!

“Martin is going to be thrilled,” Jon says with a sigh and he can hear the tape recorder click off almost in agreement. He feels exhausted and replenished at the same time, like always with the new way this world feeds him statements. Sitting down here, in the Corpse Routes, to rest seems out of the question though, so he looks around for the familiar shape of Martin. Of course, he could just Know his location and the temptation to do just that is iminent and pressing, but he promised not to Know things about his boyfriend and Jon is trying to stick to that promise.

Jon spots Martin wandering the edge of The End’s domain, kicking the ground maybe harder than is strictly necessary and a warm feeling spreads through Jon’s chest, replacing the cold left there by fulfilling his role as The Archivist. He probably shouldn’t be, but Jon can’t help being a little happy about Martin’s jealousy. It’s so mundane and normal and  _ human _ . It gives Jon hope, even if it’s just a tiny sliver, that maybe, despite kickstarting the literal apocalypse, he and Martin can be happy in the long run. That they can find their own little version of normalcy in this hellscape. 

Jon is smiling absentmindedly as he catches up with Martin. He can’t even remember a time where someone had been jealous on his behalf. Georgie had never been the jealous kind, confident and secure in their relationship, back when it had still been good. If anything  _ Jon _ is usually the one who ends up jealous and he is a little flattered by Martin making a big deal about what he does and who he ‘wakes up for like a spring chicken’. 

“Hey,” he says just as he reaches Martin, who whirls around to face him immediately, his brows still drawn together in annoyance. Jon meets his frown with a smile.

“So?” Martin asks snappishly. “Are we smiting Oliver?”

Jon steps closer and tugs at Martin’s arm, which he has buried as deep as possible into the pockets of his anorak. He glares, but reluctantly lets Jon free his hand and take it into his own. 

“We are not smiting Oliver,” Jon says gently as he’s entwining their fingers. 

Martin huffs. “Fine…”

“He’s not dangerous,” Jon tells him. “He- he’s content with waiting this whole thing out, actually.”

“Waiting what out?” Martin asks, curiosity creeping back into his voice. 

“Everything, I guess,” Jon explains. “The whole apocalypse. Death still waits for us all, even in this new world, and with no new people being born… The End is content to just wait, like it always has.”

“Urgh, you’re being creepy again. I’m sorry I asked,” Martin says with distaste, but he’s squeezing Jon’s hand and Jon squeezes back.

And with that they begin their way through the Corpse Routes. It’s not a comfortable walk, at least not for Martin, Jon assumes. Even without the burning hatred he appears to have for Oliver Banks, Martin seems uncomfortable with the dread brought on by the inevitable end of everything hanging thick in the air. The path they’re walking is uneven, with thousands of misshapen roots sprouting out of the ground, and the cast over sky littered in eyes is not exactly providing adequate lighting, so they make only slow progress. 

“You know where he is though, right?” Martin asks suddenly, after a long while of silent walking.

“Oliver?” Jon asks and Martin’s expression darkens, as if even the name coming from Jon’s lips is unacceptable.

“Yes,  _ Oliver _ ,” Martin says the name like it’s poison. “You could find him, right?”

“I could,” Jon allows, unsure where this is going. “Martin, what-”

“I want to meet him,” Martin interrupts. “Take me to him!”

Jon blinks at Martin in confusion. “You want to meet him?”

“Yes, Jon, did I stutter?” Martin withdraws his hand from Jon’s to cross his arms over his chest. He’s looking down at Jon defiantly, his lips pressed together, pouting. It’s endearing and Jon loves him so, so much.

“Why?” Jon asks, before he can stop himself. He can’t quite get the smile off his face either. “Not that I’m opposed to the idea-”

“Oh, are you now?” Martin asks and leans in as loomingly as he can, his arms remaining firmly crossed and with a scowl directed at Jon. 

Jon laughs out loud for the first time in god knows how long. “You’re being ridiculous,” he says.

“Maybe so,” Martin concedes, his tone defiant. “So are you taking me to  _ Oliver Banks _ or not?”

“Sure,” Jon says, kind of curious where this is going. “He’s this way.”

And, as if he willed it into appearing, there is a second path right where they had stopped, forking off the one they had been following. Jon leads the way in vaguely comfortable silence. As much as that is possible here, in the waiting fear domain of The End Of All Things. 

“May I ask why you want to suddenly meet him after all?” Jon asks after a while.

“No,” Martin says easily. “You may not.”

Jon chuckles. “Fair enough. It’s not like you’re planning on antagonizing him into a confrontation with us just so I’ll have to smite him, right?”

It had been meant as a joke but the following silence is brooding and long until Jon stops to look at Martin with a raised eyebrow. Martin raises his eyebrows right back at him, still glaring. 

“Martin,” Jon says, with a sigh and a smile. “You really have nothing-” But he interrupts himself, shutting his mouth with a click of his teeth, when he notices Oliver Banks moving. He’s still quite a bit away - as much as distance still means anything in this place at least - and not even moving in their direction, but Jon turns around sharply anyways, taking one step to the side to position himself in front of Martin protectively. 

“What’s going on? Does he know we’re here?” Martin really has no business sounding this excited, with the unasked question of ‘ _ Do you have to fight him? _ ’ hanging between them. 

“I-,” Jon says slowly, not taking his eyes off their surroundings. “I’m not sure. He knows we’re in his domain, but I don’t think he knows where we are.”

“Okay, cool,” Martin says from behind him. “Then let’s go murder him, I mean meet him.”

For that Jon does turn back to give him a flat stare in response. Martin smiles, lifting his hands up in defeat.

“I’m joking, I’m joking,” he says, before letting the smile drop from his face again. “Or am I?” he adds, his voice low. 

Jon rolls his eyes, but continues on their path. It does curve slightly to the side after a while, as if to account for Oliver’s change in position, leading them to a small depression, overgrown by roots meeting in the middle to twist around each other without ever ending in any sort of tree or plant. This, Jon Knows, is the heart of the Corpse Routes, the place from where to hold vigil for the souls trapped in this place. And there he is, Oliver Banks, standing in the slightly raised center of knotted together roots. He is not looking their way but it’s only a matter of moments before he will notice them.

Maybe Jon should be scared, and a lifetime ago he would have been, but right now he just stands tall, unafraid and deeply curious about what this meeting might bring.

“ _ This  _ is Oliver Banks?” Martin whispers next to him, his voice filled with anger and outrage.

Jon turns to him, confused by his tone. “Yes?”

“He's hot, Jon!” Martin hisses and glares at Jon with wide eyes. “Why didn't you tell me he is hot?”

Jon has to bite his lip to not laugh out loud again. “I- I wasn't aware that was important knowledge to impart on you,” he says. “Also, you do realize that this is going to be the first time I'm meeting him while not in a coma?”

“Shut up, Jon. Why is he hot?” Martin is at least now glaring at Oliver instead of Jon, as if the man would somehow hold the answer to that question. He looks furious and there is a blush high on his cheeks.

“I really don’t know how to answer that,” Jon tells him. 

“Oh sod off,” Martin says.

That’s when Oliver turns to face them. He doesn’t look surprised, his face a mask of resigned calmness. Or maybe it isn’t even a mask and Oliver has long ago already braced himself for whatever end he might find. His eyes meet Jon’s in acknowledgement and Jon wonders how much Oliver is aware of the statement Jon has plucked out of the domain he reigns over. Then his gaze wanders over to Martin, where it stays, and some life seems to return to his lax features, as he takes him in with curiosity. Jon doesn’t have to look at Martin to know he is seething. 

Oliver moves through the roots like it’s even ground towards them until he is close enough for a conversation that doesn’t involve shouting, his eyes never leaving Martin.

“Are you here to kill me?” Oliver asks, looking up at them from a couple of steps away downhill, in the same manner one might inquire about the weather.

“No,” Jon says.

“Yes,” Martin says at the same time. “I mean, no.” He doesn’t sound like he means ‘no’.

Oliver nods and there is the hint of a smile on his lips as he walks up to them properly. 

“That’s good to hear,” he says. “I’m Oliver, by the way. Nice to meet you.” And he offers Martin a hand to shake.

Martin smiles back at him, a dangerous smile, doing nothing to hide his fury and disdain. 

“Martin,” he says, taking the hand and stepping slightly to the side, as if to block Oliver’s view on Jon with his broad shoulders at least a little. Jon doesn’t need to Know, to know that Martin is doing his darndest to crush Oliver’s hand in his own. Martin is the pettiest man on earth and Jon couldn’t be more in love with him. 

“It seemed rude to not at least stop by and say ‘Hi!’, since we’re heading through here,” Martin explains in that same faux friendly tone, though that’s the first time Jon hears about any of this. 

“Well,” Oliver says after their handshake, his small smile unwavering. “I appreciate the gesture, though - as you can see - I don’t really have a way of entertaining guests,” he continues, making a sweeping hand motion over the Corpse Routes around them. “Still, feel free to rest and stay a while.” 

Oliver is still looking at Martin and that is starting to worry Jon a little. Too many entities and avatars out there have their eyes on him for whatever purposes. Then again, out of all of them, Jon is really not worried about Oliver Banks of all people. 

They do end up staying a little bit, much to Jon’s baffled delight. Martin hates it, obviously, though he manages to stay polite; or rather his chosen form of creating animosity is being obnoxiously friendly and passive aggressive. Oliver is taking it all surprisingly well, either very good at pretending or genuinely interested in engaging with Martin and his shenanigans. Maybe even as a fully realized avatar of The End you feel lonely from time to time and this is as human an interaction as they come for Oliver. Jon highly doubts that he, as The Archivist, could provide something like that, even if he wanted to; and he very much doesn’t. 

“Do you have any tea?” Martin asks, interrupting Oliver’s explanation of how the Corpse Routes work, before Jon can. Martin looks a little sick, just from the few sentences Oliver got into his monologue, and if Jon isn’t allowed to be creepy and ominous then Oliver definitely isn’t either. 

“Tea?” Oliver asks. 

Martin gives him a flat look, before opening his mouth to, no doubt, snark at Oliver about him not knowing what tea is. But Oliver is faster. “I don’t have any leaves, but I do actually have some dried roots. You could probably make some kind of tea with it,” he says. 

That throws Martin enough to drop his hostility for just a moment. “You do?”

“Yeah, let me show you,” Oliver says and leads them down into the root covered depression. 

Jon and Martin exchange a look. Jon shrugs at Martin. 

“It’s probably shit,” Martin says quietly, before putting his determinately cold face back on, and follows Oliver. 

Jon snorts and does the same. 

Oliver has a little living space set up deep within the roots and it’s almost endearing. 

“I thought you guys didn’t need anything besides the whole consuming fear and being creepy business,” Martin says, his tone unkind. 

Oliver shrugs, unbothered. “Sometimes it’s nice to do that with a warm cup in your hand. Isn’t that right, Jon?”

Jon does indeed get it, at least kind of, but when Martin directs his intense glare in his direction at Oliver’s familiar tone, Jon deems it saver to just shrug. A smile is tugging at the corners of his mouth again and it doesn’t disappear when Oliver shows Martin his roots and Martin does indeed get a little excited about being able to brew some tea, despite himself.

“Well, I’m clearly dealing with an expert here, so I’ll leave you to it,” Oliver says with a smirk, before turning to Jon. “Come on, I’ll show you my vigil place. As part of The Eye I’m sure you’ll appreciate this.”

Martin’s head snaps up at them from where he had been examining roots before Jon has any time to react. 

“You’re leaving?” he asks, his eyes boring themselves into Jon’s.

“Only for a moment,” Oliver says easily, already turning to leave, and the thing is, Jon does kind of want to see the view from Oliver’s vigil place. Whether that wish comes from himself or The Eye he can’t say, but it’s very tempting. Still, it might not be worth Martin’s wrath, who scowls at him with intensity. 

“I wanted to talk to you anyway,” Oliver continues and Martin directs his glare towards him immediately.

“Oh really?” he says. “What about?”

Oliver shrugs unbothered. “Only one way to find out,” he says and with that he heads off, leaving Jon to look at Martin pleadingly.

‘Kill him now,’ Martin mouths without making a sound and Jon cracks up once again. 

“I’ll see you in a moment,” he tells Martin, unable to keep the laughter out of his voice, and follows Oliver.

“Smiting! Now!” Martin insists in a hiss from behind him. Jon waves him goodbye over his shoulder.

Oliver leads him up to the little space where all the roots twist together. It’s surprisingly easy to reach with some roots functioning as stairs, making any climbing unnecessary. The view is as breathtaking as it is horrifying, but the second part only gives Jon a small rush of contentment. He would feel guilty about it, but right now he is too fascinated by what he is able to see. The ground around them is exactly on eye level from here, making it all the more obvious that every single Corpse Route leads here, towards them, all their deaths visible and overwhelming from Oliver's vigil place. The Archivist delights in the influx of knowledge and horror.

“Yeah, yeah,” Oliver says next to him, though right now The Archivist is uninterested in anything he might have to say. “Beautiful and terrible, I get it,” Oliver continues almost dismissively. “I wanted to ask you about Martin.”

Jon is Jon again when he looks at him confused. “What about Martin?”

Oliver isn’t really meeting his eyes, scratching the back of his head almost sheepishly. For a wild second Jon feels a rush of panic go through him, because he has no idea where this is going and what if something is wrong with Martin and he hadn’t noticed? What if it is too late for Jon to fix it? But then he suddenly Knows, and- Oh.

“Is he, you know,” Oliver continues and Jon doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or be offended. “Is he seeing anyone? I know it’s the end of the world but, I don’t know, I’ve got needs, you know-” Jon very much doesn’t know. “And he’s cute. But I don’t want to cross any lines if he’s with someone.” Jon should probably feel insulted that somehow it doesn’t seem to be occurring to Oliver, that this someone could be Jon, but Jon thinks that if he opens his mouth right now to point that out, he would probably start laughing and he really wants to hear the end of this little speech. “Do you know if he’s into guys?”

“He is,” Jon says, keeping his tone level and unaffected. “But he is seeing someone, yes.”

The thing is Jon could explain further, but then again, why would he?

“Dang,” Oliver says and a small moment of awkward silence stretches between them until Oliver speaks up again: “I’m gonna kick you guys out then. I’m assuming you don't mind.”

“Works for me,” Jon agrees and they head back down in continued awkward silence. Jon does his best to not laugh at the absurdity of it all. The world is over, running on borrowed time in an apocalyptic hellscape ruled by fear and here he is, doing sitcom level shenanigans with his boyfriend. He almost breaks when they come back into view and Martin eyes them over immediately, suspicion clear on his face.

“Well, this has been fun,” Jon says stepping up to Martin who is scowling down at him once again. “But we’ve got places to be,” he continues and takes Martin’s hand into his, once again plucking it out of his coat pocket. Martin narrows his eyes at him, but doesn’t withdraw.

“Bye,” Oliver says flatly. Jon can’t see his expression and he knows it’s his human side that allows Oliver the privacy of not Knowing it either.

“What?” Martin asks, confused and with a little bit of anger in his voice. “What happened up there?” He lets himself get dragged away, leaving Oliver behind. “Jon!” he demands before lowering his voice. “Are we in danger?”

“No,” Jon says immediately. “Things just got… awkward,” he settles on.

“Okay,” Martin says as they reach the edge of the depression. “What does that mean? Did he hit on you or what?”

Jon chuckles silently, which Martin interprets as a ‘yes’. He stops in his tracks, pulling Jon to a halt as well. 

“Oh, I’m going back there right now and I’ll-”

“Martin-” Jon says, conciliatorily around his laughter. “He didn’t-”

“What then?” Martin asks, before taking a deep breath. “What did he want?” he says, his voice a lot more casual, dangerously so, but his eyes betraying his lingering anger. 

“I will tell you, if you tell me why you wanted to come meet him,” Jon says teasingly. He tugs at Martin’s arm and they start walking again as Martin considers this for a moment. 

“I wanted to see what all the fuss is about,” he concedes, annoyed. “And I’m not impressed. Now tell me what you talked about.”

“Actually, he wanted to know if  _ you  _ were single,” he says, not quite able to hold back his laughter once more. 

Martin opens his mouth and closes it again, confusion and horror clear on his face.

“What?” he says finally.

“I’m not his type as it turns out, so really I think I’m the one who should be jealous here,” Jon says, aiming for a grave tone, but missing by a mile as his own laughter keeps him from pulling it off. “He was really into your whole ‘angry brooding’ thing.”

“What?” Martin repeats. And then again, for good measure: “What?”

“I don’t know what about this is confusing to you,” Jon says, still teasing, but his voice is coming out a lot more gentle than intended. Not that Jon minds. “You are very handsome.”

“Jon,” Martin says, exasperated, his face rapidly turning redder and redder. “You have to say that! You’re dating me!”

Jon pulls Martin closer, entwining their fingers and leaning his head against his shoulder as they walk.

“I have to say that because it’s true,” he tells Martin. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Martin mumbles.

“I love you,” Jon says into the fabric of Martin’s coat. 

Martin huffs, feigning annoyance still, but his hand tightens around Jon’s regardless. 

“I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are always appreciated and im [here on tumblr](http://they-hear-the-music.tumblr.com) should you want to say hi c:
> 
> EDIT: Thank you so much for all the nice comments I've gotten so far!! It's overwheling how sweet everyone has been <3  
> EDIT 2: Ehlihr drew an absolutely adorable comic, which you can find [here on tumblr](https://ehlihr.tumblr.com/post/619191612986228736/comic-based-on-a-funny-passage-from)!! <3


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